


Barry Allen, Who?

by weekend_conspiracy_theorist



Series: i won't go quietly into the night [3]
Category: Arrow (TV 2012), The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-09
Updated: 2016-04-09
Packaged: 2018-06-01 03:09:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6498463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/weekend_conspiracy_theorist/pseuds/weekend_conspiracy_theorist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Barry Allen, who? Just a guy who can run fast, big deal. My girl can break a building in half with her vocal cords.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Barry Allen, Who?

**Author's Note:**

> Part of my "fuck the CW, let's write about Laurel Lance being alive and happy and kissing ladies" initiative

“It’s funny,” Laurel says, her head pillowed on Iris’s stomach as they lay there in the dark, staring up at the ceiling. “I always thought… you know, that you’d end up with Barry.”

“Still could,” Iris teases, and she runs her fingers slowly, rhythmically through Laurel’s hair. “Relationships don’t always last forever. Not even the majority of the time, really.”

Fair enough. Laurel closes her eyes, humming softly as Iris runs her nails gently over her scalp. “I want this one to, though,” she confides, and she swears she can see the room brighten a fraction, even through her eyelids, as Iris smiles.

“Me, too,” she agrees. “Barry Allen, who? Just a guy who can run fast, big deal. My girl can break a building in half with her vocal cords.”

“Your girl sounds pretty cool,” Laurel agrees, and there’s laughter in her voice as she adds, “but not as cool as mine.”

“Hmmm, well, tell me about this imaginary creature–as imaginary she must be, to somehow be cooler than my girlfriend.”

Laurel turns on her side, burying a smile against Iris’s t-shirt until Iris nudges her shoulder in an obvious statement of “Get a move on!” She presses a quick kiss to the fabric, lifts her head and brushes her hair back over her shoulder before resting her cheek once more. “My girl,” she says softly, “is kind, incredibly kind, but even more than she’s kind, she’s determined and brave–all the more for having no powers and diving headfirst into the fray anyway. ANd there’s no way to bury a truth far enough underground to keep her from digging it up–don’t even think stealing the keys to her excavator will stop her; a shovel works just as well.”

Iris laughs, the sound soft and light, and prods at Laurel’s shoulder again, this time with one finger. “What a metaphor,” she teases. She sounds pleased anyway.

“I’ll leave the writing to you,” Laurel laughs, fumbling for Iris’s hand for a few seconds before finally finding it, twining their fingers together. “And my girl is beautiful, too,” she adds, pulling Iris’s hand up to her lips and pressing a kiss to the soft skin of the back of her hand.

“My girl is prettier,” Iris fires back, squeezing tight on Laurel’s hand. “And she’s saved this city more times than I can count–saved the city, saved its people, saved me. There’s nothing she can’t do.”

“Oh?” Laurel asks. She means it to come out taunting, but in the darkness, with Iris’s stomach rise and fall beneath her ear, it comes out just the slightest bit vulnerable.

“Oh, yeah.” Iris slips her hand from Laurel’s, cups her cheek instead, warm and caring and so full of love. “Cisco and I were thinking of starting a fan club, but when we googled it, it turned out there already was one.”

Laurel pushes up to one elbow, incredulous laughter bubbling up. “You’re kidding.”

“I’m totally not,” Iris laughs, and she sits up, too. A car passes in the street below, its headlights slipping through the blinds just enough to show her bright, beaming grin for a split second. “We asked them to add us to the mailing list, and our t-shirts come in Monday.”

Laurel leans forward, presses her forehead to Iris’s as she laughs again. “I can’t believe it.”

“Everyone seems to be in agreement that your new costume is better than the old one,” Iris tells her, laughing, and tilts her head just enough to slide her lips against Laurel’s. “But I gotta say,” she adds, a thread of heat in her voice, “I do kind of miss the leather.”

**Author's Note:**

> hit me up at lisasneeze.tumblr.com with any and all laurel-centric femslash prompts


End file.
